


Stranger

by bloodandcocoa



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:59:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2763965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcocoa/pseuds/bloodandcocoa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Laura, Danny and Carmilla have never officially met but they feel like they know each other somehow. There's various close encounters, but in a city with a population well into the millions, how do you find two strangers you don't actually know? Songfic!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> Could also be called: How Trains Ruined Everything.
> 
> Could also also be called: I Found Love, On the Corner of 1698 and Sheridan.
> 
> Extra note. This is based on a song called Stranger by Chris August. A friend and I did a cover of the song a while back and that's the version I had in mind. Its been posted onto my Tumblr (same name as this account: bloodandcocoa) so if you wanted to listen to that while you read that's there. (Also feedback would be awesome)
> 
> EXTRA EXTRA NOTE: There's some mentions of abuse and sexual assault there. They're very minor but you never know.

**So this got out of hand really quickly. I did not intend for this to be like seven thousand words. Back to studying! Thanks!**

**Cheers!**

* * *

_"Stranger, till I hear your laughter? Crazy, cause you're all I'm after. It's a pleasure, It was nice to have met you. And I'll remember to never for get you."_

* * *

Laura Hollis groaned and slammed her head into the hard surface of the table underneath her. Her head felt like it was going to explode and she could barely keep her eyes open. There was a soft clunk and the telltale scraping of a chair being pulled back so that somebody could sit down next to her.

"'Sup Laura, another deadline killing you?" Laura cracked open one eye blearily to see a much to energetic redhead grinning down at her. "Here a hot chocolate, extra whip and a double shot of espresso." A tall white mug was pushed into her vision, partially obscuring the cheshire-like grin.

"Ugh, thanks LaFontaine," Laura accepted the steaming drink gratefully.

LaFontaine watched on amusedly as Laura took small sips of the scalding beverage. The two of them made an odd pair. Laura was a reporter, the unofficial baby of the industry, partially because of her size and partially due to her age. LaFontaine was a barista, correction the head barista, which basically meant manager in their books, at a coffee shop two blocks away from Laura's apartment called Block 1698.

The two of them had become fast friends, largely due to Laura pretty much living in the coffee shop for a month or so as she waited for her service provider to finally install wi-fi in her apartment. So months later, after her apartment was finally hooked up, Laura still found herself in her favourite overstuffed armchair next to the large bay windows. She was a creature of habit, and the coffee shop seemed to help her write. Especially when the topics she had to write about was about as interesting as the peeling paint over the espresso machine in the back.

"So what's got you all face-desking this time? It looks like your article's about done," the redhead peered around the side of Laura's laptop at the full-page of text on the screen.

"It's not the article. Article was easy." Laura licked the extra whipped cream off of her upper lip.

"Okay... Are you going to tell me what's up then?" LaFontaine furrowed their brows at her, clearly confused. "Come on, you can tell me. You can tell me anything."

Laura rolled her eyes, sometimes they were like a four-year old. "I've been having a reoccurring dream."

LaFontaine waggled their eyebrows suggestively at her, this teasing grin already creeping over their face. "Not like that! This is why I don't tell you things!"

"Okay, okay! Sheesh Hollis. Calm your tits." There was a pause. "Well...?"

"Well, I'm always on this busy street but there's no sound, like someone hit the mute button. And I don't actually see anybody clearly, they're just shapes passing me. But then there's always these two girls."

"And here you told me it wasn't that kind of a dream-" Laura shot LaFontaine a death glare, effectively silencing them.

"They're the only two people I can see clearly and I feel like I've known them my whole life. Like I've seen them before, I just don't know where." Laura sighed and drained the rest of drink in one long gulp. "They're both absolutely gorgeous. One of them has dark wavy hair and sometimes in my dream she turns around. I think she says something to me but I can't hear her. Its like she just stares into your soul. You remember when I made you watch Tangled with me that one time and we both laughed at Flynn Rider's smoulder? When we said if anybody tried that on us we'd never be able to take them seriously?"

LaFontaine nodded slowly, unsure of where this conversation was going.

"Well this girl pulls it off. And like ugh," Laura hides her face in her hands. She could feel the tips of her ears reddening just from the thought of it, she could also feel LaFontaine's amused gaze.

Amused would be an understatement. LaFontaine liked to think that they knew this tiny reporter pretty well. After all, Laura spent something close to 30 hours a week in the shop. But sometimes, she still had a surprise or two left. "So, what about the other one?"

"What other one?" Laura shot back, squinting at them from between her fingers.

"You just said there were two girls in your dreams. Two," LaFontaine wiggled two fingers in Laura's face for emphasis. If Laura was this into one of her dream girls, they could only wonder what the other one would be like.

"Oh, right. Uh. She's tall. Like really tall. And she has this red hair like fire. Like yours but longer and it's always flowing behind her so it just looks like she's on fire. Its like she's some goddess of fire or something but not really fire though. And she has these bright blue eyes-"

"Does she smoulder too?" the barista cut in with a chuckle. They were lucky that it was getting late and there was barely anyone left in the shop.

"Oh god," Laura's eyes widened, as if the thought just occurred to her. "Maybe. Her eyes are so blue, its like the ocean and I could just get lost. It's just this crazy, beautiful combination of fire and ice. And I never thought it would be possible." Laura sighed and stared blankly at her laptop. "I'm in love with two people, two strangers, I've never actually met before. I sound psychotic."

"Maybe, you never know. The world's full of wonder," LaFontaine smiled at the younger woman. They really hoped that she found whoever these people were, if anybody deserved a little bit of hope and wonder, it'd be Laura.

"LaFontaine!" a sharp voice cut into their conversation, bringing it to a screeching halt. "You have an interviewee coming in fifteen minutes, could you please get ready? You know how much I hate interviews!" There was the actual manager, or rather, owner, of the shop, Perry, gesturing for her to go clean.

The redhead made a displeased face at Laura and picked up Laura's empty mug. "It's fine, I'm gonna go home anyways," Laura smiled at the funny face LaFontaine made behind their superior's back. Being friends with the barista always meant free drinks, another plus which Laura could never turn down.

So Laura threw her laptop and charger into her shoulder bag, had her headphones in with Taylor Swift playing obnoxiously loud, when she saw her. A roaring flame, tall and bright against the dark night sky. A flash of fire in front of the bay windows that Laura adored so much. She knew there was a reason why. With a gasp, Laura grabbed her bag and raced out the front door, a storm all compacted into a five foot one frame.

"I'll see you tomorrow, LaF!" Laura called out over her shoulder as she rushed onto the street, the door swing shut behind her with a harsh jingle. The street wasn't too busy, rush hour was over, all that was left was a few dawdlers wandering around, or couples taking a romantic stroll. But where was she? Where was the girl? For a girl with flaming hair and a six-foot frame, she sure wasn't easy to spot.

Laura spun on the spot, frantically trying to locate her mystery girl. There! A brief blaze of red, heading down the stairs to the subway. Shoot, Laura was gonna lose her. No Laura refused to lose her simply because the last time that she ran was in her high school gym class. Which was nearly seven years ago, that was embarrassing.

Down the concrete steps she flew, two at a time. A dangerous feat for one with such short legs, but she made it down to the bottom in one piece and more importantly, in record time. Heart racing, she squeezed her way through the throngs of people. While the street above ground was pretty desolate, this particular subway station had entrances from several different areas. The crowd of people nearly obscured the dash of red that Laura was tracking.

Laura lost her for a moment when she turned to apologize for bumping into a woman carrying her groceries. The girl was completely gone. But Laura figured that if she was in the subway station, she was probably headed for the platforms. Look at her journalism skills coming into play. Hastily, she pushed her way down the escalators, nearly sliding down the railings and tripping over people.

Unfortunately, she had not taken the subway much before and took several wrong turns. Why was this subway station so big? Who needed a subway station this big? Finally she made it down to the platforms.

Only it was the wrong platform, Laura could see her, bright against the other colours of life. The girl got onto the train that pulled into platform across from Laura.

"Hey!" her voice sounded ridiculously loud despite how noisy the station was. A few people gave her weird looks as they passed. For a second the girl turned, as if she was looking for the owner of the voice, for Laura. But a couple pushing a stroller walked across Laura's field of view and the train, with her mystery girl disappeared into the night.

* * *

"Kirsch I swear if you don't give me my iPod back I am going to smash your face in with my lacrosse stick," Danny growled swinging her duffel bag over her shoulder. Her bag weighed about a million pounds today, and the strap settled right over the bruise she got when Kirsch cross checked her in practice.

"Wow Lawrence, chill. I haven't seen this dinosaur since the Jurassic period," Kirsch narrowly dodged a swing at his face. "Sheesh, someone is more psychotic than usual."

"You know what they call me: Psycho Society," Danny snatched her very classic iPod classic away from Kirsch and held it protectively against her chest. "And stop setting me up on these blind dates or I'll end you like that meteor ended the dinosaurs."

"Hey! Betty was a nice girl!" Kirsch yelled after Danny's retreating form.

"You can keep her then!" Danny shot back, flipping him off as she made her way out of the locker rooms.

"She's my cousin!"

"Even better!"

Danny huffed as she stepped outside into the crisp night air. Kirsch had no business poking his nose into her life, especially her love life. But as obnoxious as Kirsch was, he was right. Betty was a nice girl; intelligent, funny, easy on the eyes. But Danny just didn't feel it. Could she have probably forced herself to enjoy their date and maybe even go steady with the girl? Probably. But Danny just wasn't up for it.

What was really bothering as of late, was that she was hearing voices. Yeah, voices. At first she thought that maybe she really was becoming the psycho in Psycho Society. However, several late nights of surfing the internet and taking various online quizzes proved otherwise. Maybe she was insane, her sanity depended on the results of some sketchy looking quizzes.

Although, her second conclusion was much safer, and more sane. Kinda. She figured she heard the voices on the radio somewhere and now they were just stuck in her head. The gym that she went to every morning did blare various kinds of music and talk shows. She probably got it from there. Which was why she dug up her old iPod and filled it with songs. Any song, all songs. Maybe by some process of elimination and trial and error, she'd be able to figure out who the voices belonged to.

The voices weren't unpleasant though. Both were decidedly female. One was a little huskier, had an underlying rasp to it that made it very unique and it sent butterflies shooting through Danny's gut as well as shivers down her spine. It reminded her of old jazz, smooth old jazz. Something like, Old Devil Moon. The other one was a concentrated beam of pure sunshine. There was a musical, joyous lilt to it, always so happy and upbeat. This one warmed her insides with an intensity that could only be described as swallowing a ball of fire, but gave her goosebumps at the same time. Walking on Sunshine. Definitely sunshine.

It was inexplicable.

The voices never said much. Not much that Danny could understand. They were like muted conversations in the background and the more Danny tried to listen, the more they faded away. Occasionally she'd get a phrase that she understood. Usually the same phrase. One voice always said one and the other voice always said the other.

"Buckle up, creampuff," said Old Devil Moon.

"Girl the hell up!" said Walking on Sunshine.

With or without context, both phrases made very little sense to Danny. But at least she got to keep hearing those voices right? She sighed, as sore as she was from lacrosse practice, she felt like a late night run might help clear her head. Maybe help her sleep better. There was an old stadium that had been converted to a soccer field for minor leagues about three subway stops away. She could probably do some laps and some stairs, catch up on her cardio.

Absentmindedly, Danny began scrolling through her iPod, trying to match the voices in her head with voices coming through her earbuds. Her steps were sure and lengthy, taking her down the well-lit streets towards the subway station. The nearest entrance was two streets down but Danny didn't mind. The gentle night breeze felt amazing on her face, her hair billowing gently behind her.

Her sneakers slapped noisily to the beat against the concrete steps as she headed underground. With a frustrated huff, Danny yanked her earbuds out of her ears. Over half of her playlist had been eliminated. Still nothing. Growling, she shoved her iPod into her and swept through the halls, heading towards the platforms.

"Buckle up, creampuff." Old Devil Moon was back.

Then she heard it, not as some voice inside her head. But an actual melodious sound. She nearly tripped in shock as her brain stopped functioning for a minute, realizing that the voice was real. Old Devil Moon was real. Danny turned frantically, searching for the source of the sound.

 _"Strangest thing that I ever did feel, I had to make you smile just to prove it's real."_ the voice echoed thinly off of the tiled hallways of the station. A guitar played faintly in the background and Danny turned down another hallway. It was the opposite direction from the actual platform that she was originally headed to, but she didn't care. Not any more.

 _"It was the lack of starving attention. So if you're feeling the symptoms today. All you gotta do is say..."_  The voice faded out completely, drowned out by the hustle and bustle of a sudden rush of people coming down the stairs.

"Dammit," Danny swore, pushed her way through the crowd of people, heading towards where she thought the voice was coming from. She entered a main common area of sorts. A few ticket dispensers, an info desk with a bored looking clerk, some benches and something bright red on the ground by the wall. Frowning, Danny bent down and scooped up the blood-red item, a guitar pick.

Old Devil Moon was gone, the guitar pick a small reminder of what Danny had missed.

Definitely needed a lengthy workout tonight, Danny decided and defeatedly trudged back towards the escalators to her correct platform. The train was arriving as Danny stood exhaustedly on her escalator step. She leaned heavily against the back of some filled seats, watching the doors slide shut with a hiss.

"Hey!" Danny looked up instantly, her body stiffening like she had just been shocked. Sunshine, Walking on Sunshine. The voice was a little distant but she heard it like they were next to her. She scanned the platforms for the owner of the voice. An elderly man with a paper, a few teenagers, a couple pushing a stroller, some business men in suits. Nobody.

The train pulled out of the station, leaving the voices echoing in Danny's mind.

* * *

"Carmilla! Why are you lighting all these candles?" Carmilla turned to glare at her stepbrother, who was standing there in the hallway, arms crossed. He looked cross.

"Because you make the place smell like booze and cheap cologne. Its disgusting," Carmilla wrinkled her nose at him and lit a few more candles in response.

"You've never complained before," Will smirked and dug through the fridge, before finally settling for a beer.

"Yeah well I am now," Carmilla sniped back and tucked her lighter into her pocket.

"Vanilla bean, warm sugar and orange spice. Interesting..." Will read the labels off.

"Interesting that you can read," Carmilla remarked and grabbed her messenger bag off of the counter.

"Also, you're not allowed to be weird when I have girls over. Elsie thinks you're creepy, something about smelling her?" She'd never tell Will but for some reason, as of late, there had been this scent that seemed to follow her everywhere. The scent was familiar and comforting, but something that she couldn't place.

She'd gotten better at placing the specific smells that made up the unique scent. Took a few days of experimenting and a while spent in body shops, sniffing their lotions and candles, but she had settled on a few scents. Vanilla for sure, then something sweet, very sweet, which is where the warm sugar candle came in, and oranges. There was another scent, kinda Christmasy, like pine. But Carmilla had yet to locate a candle for that one. The candles produced a similar smell to what Carmilla wanted, but something was always missing.

Luckily for her, she had ruled out all of her stepbrother's 'study buddies'. Elsie had been the last one, the pale girl would've been mortified to if any one of them had been the one. Like she actually wanted to hang around when Will and his girls.

"Whatever loser," Carmilla grunted and pulled on her leather jacket. "Have you seen my guitar?"

"You mean the axe of Hastur?" Will mocked, pointing past the kitchen to the front door, where a battered black guitar case sat.

"For the last time, William," Carmilla drew out Will's full name on purpose, knowing how much it pissed him off. "It is an acoustic guitar. You don't refer to acoustic guitars as axes. It's just Hastur."

"Well Mircalla, nobody names their guitars anymore. This is why you are still single, you're basically dating Hastur," Will rolled his eyes and stalked out of the room. He knew how much Carmilla hated her given name as well.

Carmilla was originally Mircalla Karnstein, her father died when she was ten and her mother was an abusive, controlling bitch. When Carmilla was twelve, her mother got remarried and that's where Will came in. They hated each other from the moment they met, but they were forced to bond over their mutual hatred of their mother/stepmother. Your enemy's enemy was your friend, right?

It was no surprise that Carmilla ran away multiple times. Will was always too scared of the repercussions to go with her. But to her, a few days of freedom was worth the bruising and the scarring. When Carmilla finally turned 18, she left for good. Changed her name to Carmilla. She offered Will a chance to leave with her, but the boy was still was very much under her mother's thumb.

A year later, Will would turn 18 and flee as well. After Carmilla had left, her mother had turned to Will and with nobody to bear the brunt of her wrath, Will fled quickly. He sought her out in the city, she was a struggling artist. Busking whenever she could and working various part-time jobs. Will got himself a job as a bartender at one of the downtown bars and rent became easier after that.

They still hated each other to a point, but nobody else knew them like the other. They would survive.

Now if Carmilla was quick, she'd be able to busk in the subway station for about an hour before her interview at this coffee shop called Block 1698 or something weird. Guitar case in hand, Carmilla left her building. It was probably best if she busked in the station by the coffee shop so that she wouldn't be late, instead of the one by her building. So the Sheridan station it was.

The subway ride was quick and uneventful. The train car she was in reeked of cigarette smoke and heavy perfume, it was nauseating. The stale air of the subway station was actually a breath of relief for once as Carmilla made her way past vending machines and rumbling trains. There was an empty spot next to some ticket dispensers and some fake potted plants.

Perfect. It didn't take her long to set up, guitar in hand, case open in front of her as she began to sing. Music came naturally to her, and she let her thoughts wander as her fingers danced over her strings. Music just made sense, made her forget about everything else.

A woman rushed past her, bring with her the smell of the crisp night, pulling Carmilla out of her reverie. She stared down at her case, when did those coins and bills get there. Shoot, what time was it? She was gonna be late.

Hastily, she finished up her song and packed up her things. There was about twenty bucks in change now sitting at the bottom of her bag. Not too bad for an hour. Also late. She was going to be late. Scrambling, she rushed up the stairs, only to find it was the wrong entrance. Now she had to run an extra two blocks.

She must look like an idiot, running at breakneck speed with a messenger bag dangling haphazardly from her shoulder and a guitar case banging against her knee with every other step. Fortunately, the streets were empty and she made it to the coffee shop with no problem, just three minutes late.

The coffee shop was pretty quiet, there was one redhead with crazy curly hair running the register and another redhead leaning boredly against the fridge. The redhead's eyes lit up when they saw Carmilla come stumbling in.

"I'm here for an interview?" Carmilla panted, a little out of breath, her knee hurt as well.

"Oh, you must be Carmilla. I'm LaFontaine, I'll be interviewing you. Do you want something to drink?" the redhead pushed themselves off of the fridge and shook Carmilla's hand with a grin.

"Water would be awesome thanks," Carmilla replied.

"Sure thing, just take a seat wherever and we'll get started," LaFontaine gestured at the various empty tables while they grabbed a plastic cup to fill.

"Okay..." Carmilla nodded slowly and turned to face the tables. Tiredly, she sat herself down in an armchair, leaning her guitar against the bay windows. She was hanging her bag over the back of the chair when she smelled it. The scent. But more like half the scent? It was coming from the chair? Vanilla, sugar cookies and cocoa? It was the scent. But only half of it. There was no orange or pine or anything else. But definitely, in its entirety the scent. Whoever it was had sat here. Carmilla felt the seat of chair, the armchair was still warm.

She had just missed them.

"So, let's get started on that interview, yeah?"

* * *

Laura spent an inordinate amount of time sitting in her favourite armchair after that encounter. She'd order her usual drink and a chocolate chip cookie. But instead of spending time hunched over her laptop, typing away, she spent her time gazing out the window at the street. Every time someone turned the corner, her heart would rise in her chest with expectation, only to fall seconds later. Like clockwork, she'd show up every evening at around eight, and stay until it was midnight before going home dejectedly.

The reporter would spend all day at work, writing with incredible efficiency, never taking anything home, sometimes staying a few hours over time just to finish an article up, and then race home. Laura made it a habit to take the subway now, even though it meant she'd have to walk a few blocks extra back to her apartment. The entire layout of the Sheridan subway station had been memorized and Laura was never getting lost in that place again should she need to give chase again.

Sometimes, she'd sit on the bench at the platform where she last saw the girl, her girl. Hoping that she would come this way again, that it was part of her daily routine. It never happened.

LaFontaine watched amusedly at this new progression. They knew that Laura was looking for her dream girl who had somehow miraculously walked out of her dreams and onto the street. The Human Torch, they called her. Literally, all Laura could talk about was this tall figure in a t-shirt and track pants with flaming red hair leading her down to the platforms. That's a basically torch if LaFontaine had ever seen one. The other one, Miss Smoulder, was strangely absent.

Or she was absent. Until one day, when Laura was in a cab, heading out to an important lunch meeting, Miss Smoulder appeared magically poofed into existence on the end of the street. There was a guitar in her hand and a dark grey beanie on her head. Her eyes were dark and Laura felt herself being drawn in, as if they were black holes. And honestly, if Laura wasn't in a cab with her editor on her way to what might the most important meeting of her life, she would've jumped out of the moving vehicle right there.

She ended up writing an article about buskers that week. Even put in a shout out to see if anybody would respond. She might've also spent a lot of time on YouTube searching for said Miss Smoulder, hoping that someone had caught a clip of the girl and posted it. No such luck.

So on top of her habit of heading to the coffee shop at eight, she started frequenting areas where buskers were known to play: the parks, downtown. But nobody knew anything useful about her mystery girl, or girls for that matter.

* * *

What LaFontaine noticed on top of Laura's new routine, was that Block 1698's newest employee also spent a lot of time in that same armchair. Now LaFontaine had worked at Block 1698 for a long time, they knew all the ins and outs of the coffee shop. Seeing how the shop wasn't all that big and that it got really boring when it was quiet, they had personally sat in every seat in the shop. That armchair got a six on the comfiness scale, it wasn't the softest, the largest or the prettiest. LaFontaine had no idea why Carmilla, spent nearly every free moment in that chair. Or why she watched every customer who sat in the chair or approached it, like they were prey.

Carmilla was a pretty strange person anyhow. She only worked morning shifts, like crack of dawn shifts and then was out of the building by the time the lunch crowd rolled around. Sometimes she'd work until three. Sometimes, she'd sit in that chair for an hour, doing nothing before leaving with her guitar.

But what the self-proclaimed manager didn't know was that Carmilla was waiting, waiting for vanilla, sugar and cocoa to show up again. The scent always lingered on the chair. It was especially strong in the morning which was when Carmilla was working in the back. But by lunch, the scent blended into all the other odours of the coffee shop. Later shifts weren't really her thing, and Block 1698 had needed more morning staff, so she could never stay later than three and still be productive.

So that was usually when Carmilla split with Hastur, heading for one spot or another to busk. There were bigger crowds when it got later in the day anyways, which was a big plus for her. She also managed to find that pine candle, in this weird Sumerian shop a few blocks from her apartment. And she couldn't stop drinking hot chocolate, which was another story all together.

On this particular day though, Will had told her there was pretty popular spot across town near the bar that he worked at. So Carmilla had rolled her eyes and decided to give it a shot, she'd exhausted all of her usual spots this week anyways. Unfortunately, the train with all of its hubbub and strange smells was the most direct way to the spot.

There was a fair amount of people on the train at that time. Lunch break, Carmilla surmised as she stood in the cluster of people around the opening train doors waiting to get on. A few people were getting off the train, and Carmilla pressed herself against the side of the train to let them out while simultaneously getting on. There was no way she was going to miss a train because she was being nice. She was nice sometimes, but not that nice. Someone's hair smacked her in the face as they pushed past a particularly large man in an ill-fitting suit. "Hey watch it!"

Carmilla flinched at the sudden physical contact but suddenly she could smell it. The other half. Oranges, pine and... campfire. That's what that was, how did she not figure that out? Eyes wide, and mouth ajar, she turned to find the person who had basically just assaulted her with their hair staring back at her with the same wide-eyed expression. Her eyes were bluer than anything Carmilla had ever seen before and she fit what Carmilla smelled exactly. Tall, bronzed, athletic. This girl looked like a sportswear model. Wait, was that her pick hanging from the girl's neck? She discovered her favourite red pick had gone missing a few days ago, while it annoyed her, it was a pretty common occurrence. But to see it right now, that made Carmilla's heart thud violently against her ribcage.

She felt her mouth go dry and the dark-haired girl wanted to leap back across onto the platform. But the subway doors slid shut in their faces and the tall redhead that had been haunting her disappeared in a screeching blur. This was probably the one time that she was actually regretting making the train.

Great, now she's managed to lose both.

* * *

Danny checked the newspaper that she picked up this morning, scanning for a specific article. Nope, nothing on buskers again. There was a strange article in the paper a few days ago about buskers. It wasn't really all that strange, it was well written and very informative, just a little out of the ordinary. But the ending where the writer wanted to know about a specific busker was a tad odd. But Danny wasn't gonna complain, she felt like she learned something about her own mysterious busker girl. Absentmindedly she fingered the red pick around her neck, she punched a hole in it when she got home and ran a leather string through it. Otherwise, she was definitely gonna lose this little piece of plastic, it was the only thing proving that her mystery girl was real at the moment.

Lacrosse practice had ended up getting moved to a different place for the last while, because of a leaking roof in their old building. Which meant that Danny had not been able to stop by the Sheridan station every night like she wanted to. But she made it a point of getting off the train at Sheridan whenever she could to take a peek before getting on the next train.

Her progress, or lack thereof, with locating Old Devil Moon and Walking on Sunshine was seriously messing with her sleep schedules. She now had to take a run every night or she'd just toss and turn all night. At least her cardio was improving, right? But she might need new running shoes at the rate she was going at.

It just so happened that Danny had to pick up a set of new team sweats from the athletics company sponsoring her team. The train was pulling into Sheridan, usually when Danny dropped by the company office, she would get off at the next stop. But it was Sheridan, and the office wasn't that far of a walk even if she did get off a stop early. Maybe today right?

With a sigh, Danny got out of her seat and joined the few others gathered around the door, ready to get off. The silver doors slid open with a quiet hiss, people were already crowding around on the platform, eager to get on the train. Yeah no, she was definitely getting off the train here before the fat businessman squished her.

Ignoring the other people around her Danny shouldered her way out the door, nearly getting her bag stuck in between the businessman and the wall of the train. She was pretty sure she had elbowed at least one person in the face, if not more. Hair swing around her wildly, Danny made it onto the platform with a breath of relief.

"Hey!" Danny froze. Old Devil Moon. She'd recognize that voice from anywhere, saying anything. Stunned, Danny could only turn around slowly, coming face to face with a raven haired goddess in leather pants. Much to Danny's further surprise, the girl's expression mirrored her own. Perfectly sculpted eyebrows raise so high they practically became a part of her hair. Was there some kind of recognition? This girl was basically a perfectly sculpted masterpiece like one of those ancient Greek statues, come to life.

But as quickly as Danny had found her, the train doors slammed shut, and Danny lost her, again. Seriously, she was going to take a five kilometre run tonight.

* * *

Laura groaned as she massaged her temples tiredly. It had been a long and stressful day at work and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in her chair with a cup of LaF's deluxe hot chocolate and a double chocolate brownie. There had been no progress at all with finding the Human Torch or Miss Smoulder and honestly it bummed Laura out a little bit. But she was not going to let that get her down.

The streets were eerily silent tonight, but that might be because it was a little later than usual. The editor had kept much longer than Laura had thought, and it was nearly ten when Laura left her office. The Laura of three weeks ago would've called it quits and headed home right away. But the Laura of three weeks ago did not accidentally meet the loves of her life in a dream and then randomly on the street.

At least Block 1698 wasn't too far away.

"Hey there pretty thing," that man definitely was not standing there a moment ago.

"Uh, hey," Laura squeaked nervously. Why was the street empty tonight of all nights. She also left her can of bear spray in her other bag, how unfortunate.

"Why are you out here by yourself so late at night? It's not safe for a little lady like you to be wandering around by herself," the man reeked of alcohol and cigarettes.

"I'm not by myself, Laura said slowly, "I'm with friends." She kept walking, keeping up her pace. Hopefully she'd make it to the coffee shop in time.

"And where are your friends? Maybe I ought to escort you there," the man waggled his eyebrows suggestively. His legs were a lot longer than hers and he kept up with her easily.

"No thanks, I really should be going," Laura sped up, she could see the front of Block 1698 now.

"Its awfully cold out, how about we head back to my place and we can, well, warm up," the man stepped in front of Laura, cutting her off and leering at her lecherously.

Wow, she was actually going to put those Krav Maga skills she learned as a child into good use. That was a surprise. The man placed a hand on the wall right next to her head, effectively pinning the woman between the wall and his body. He brushed his jacket to the side, revealing the metallic glint of a knife holstered to his waistband.

Well, shit.

* * *

Danny was coming up the steps of the Sheridan subway station. Practice had ended an hour ago and as much as she wanted to take another run, she had worn a hole in her left runner. Instead, she found herself automatically getting off at Sheridan, her body accustomed to her habit. There had been no sign of Old Devil Moon or Walking on Sunshine even though she doubled the amount of time she spent loitering around the station.

Kirsch had told her that there was nice coffee shop near Sheridan that she ought to check out since she seemed so fond of the area. Of course she had never had the chance to go to said coffee shop, but now was a good a time as any right?

Lacrosse gear settled firmly over her shoulder, Danny strode exhaustedly towards the recommended place, it had some numbers in it. 1984, or something.

There was a couple leaning against the wall as Danny passed by. Must be nice to have someone, Danny mused and kept her head down, concentrating on the cracks in the concrete.

"No please. What do you want? Lets just talk about this. Do you want money? My wallet? Here take my bag!" Sunshine. Walking on Sunshine.

Danny turned, she knew that voice. That voice was in trouble. Upon closer inspection, that couple against the wall wasn't actually a couple. The man was dirty, unshaven and the way he was looking down at the girl made Danny shudder. The girl though, had a hand pressed defensively against the man's chest, trying to keep him away. She looked pretty uncomfortable, and honestly, Danny would be too. Especially when this guy had almost a foot and a half over the young brunette. She just looked so innocent and young, her face partially shadowed by the man's towering frame.

Now it was one thing to be a pervert and assault girls on the street. But it was another thing to be assaulting someone who Danny basically considered her girl. Snarling, Danny yanked her lacrosse stick out of her bag. She had always wanted to actually beat somebody with it.

* * *

Carmilla tossed her apron tiredly into her bag. It had been a long work day. Too long, she was supposed to have the day off today too. LaFontaine had called her in at the last minute, begging her to cover their shift. Which Carmilla had begrudgingly agreed to, she didn't have much else to do anyways. Plus she was making extra money, basically a win-win.

There was also the chance that she'd see finally get to see vanilla-sugar-cocoa. She figured that the girl only came by at night, which Carmilla never worked. LaFontaine's last minute shift change was actually her big chance. But nothing, the end of her shift was almost here and still nothing; another failure. She'd just head home and light a bunch of candles while drinking cheap wine from the bottle...again.

"Perry! I'm going! Have a good night!" Carmilla waved halfheartedly to the other redhead of the establishment and pushed open the door. The bells jingled softly above her as the door fell shut. She was about to turn and head for the subway station when someone collided into her, falling right into her arms.

"Hey, are you okay?" Carmilla somehow managed to remain on her feet as she supported the weight of the other girl.

"Hi. Yeah, yeah sorry. I tripped," Carmilla looked down at twin orbs of soft hazel eyes and was suddenly overwhelmed. Vanilla. Sugar. Cocoa.

"Hey you alright?" Carmilla's head snapped up at the sound of the second voice. Oranges. Pine. Campfire. First she couldn't find either of them, now they're suddenly both here.

The three of the looked at each other for a moment, jaws dropping as they realized who the other was.

Danny looked absolutely badass with her lacrosse stick over her shoulder. A few metres behind her lay the pervert, disarmed and unconscious. Laura looked like she just might pass out from all the excitement and exhaustion, sitting on the ground while leaning against Carmilla. Carmilla just looked confused as to what exactly was going on.

Laura was the first one to speak, albeit nervously, "My name is Laura, and this might sound crazy but I swear I'm not. I've never met you guys but I've been looking for you for like the last two weeks because I keep seeing you in my dreams and its like I've known you two for my entire life. And I sound psychotic but this is actually driving me..." She trailed off when she realized that both Carmilla and Danny were looking at her with these knowing grins on their faces.

"Wait, you guys too?"

Danny knelt so that they were all roughly face to face. "Hello, my name's Danny."

Carmilla leaned back, surprised at their sudden closeness. "Hey, I'm Carmilla."

"Hey."

_"So hello there, how are you? Amazing. It's nice to finally meet you, been patiently waiting, been waiting just to see you. To tell you I dreamed you, now I found you so call off the search cause I found my stranger."_


End file.
